Paradise
by GamingMama6
Summary: (Story 4 in my timeline.) A story where Geralt and Yennefer take the ultimate step. Fair warning: Yennefer has a good bit of Bridezilla in her. Follow-up story to 'Family'.
1. Yennefer is Bridezilla

**Paradise**

 **Author's Note** **:** This story makes references to both the books and TW3. It is also a follow-up to my story 'Family', and it loosely references events from some of my other fics. If you are familiar with my writing, go ahead and skip right to the story (just beware of Bridezilla). If you would like some context without having to read my other fics, here it is:

 **Context 1 (from 'Family'):** With a lot of help from Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer are engaged - though Geralt flubbed his proposal pretty hard; his speech regrettably started with the word 'Gwent'. (Also, we don't like Fringilla.)

 **Context 2 (from 'Reinvent'):** Triss and Yennefer have buried the hatchet and are reconnected. Triss is with Eskel and, with Yennefer's support, has redirected the efforts of the Lodge and its members to reopening and revamping Aretuza; she, Margarita, Keira, and Philippa are faculty members there. (And we still don't like Fringilla.)

 **Context 3 (from 'Drawing'):** Yennefer and Geralt like looking at stars together. Geralt sucks at drawing. Yennefer loves him anyway/because of it/both.

 **Context 4 (from the epilogue of 'Family'):** Ciri alludes to a fluid sexuality. Yennefer ponders a black wedding dress.

...Without further ado...

* * *

Yennefer was very, very irritated. She was _not_ the nervous one in their relationship, damn it. No, she was always the one who would help Geralt straighten out his thoughts when his mind was in a knot, was always the one who would turn his anxieties into well-laid logic, and was always the one who would impart shrewd advice when he felt out of his depths. She was the calm, cool, collected one. Always.

So why the hell was it, now, that he was so damn sanguine about this whole blasted wedding business while she felt as if she were running around with her hair lit afire?

 _And just where in the endless kingdom of the feckless goddess Melitele is Ciri?_ she screamed in her mind.

Yennefer had had complete confidence in herself as an expert strategist and planner – specializing in any form of undertaking ranging from politics to parties. She had experience as the mastermind behind victorious battles, legendary spells, and unforgettable soirees, and her services had often been called upon by the highest in courts and society alike before she'd decided to retire.

Yet when it came to her own wedding, her mind ran blank. Utterly, uselessly blank. She had been able to come up with a grand total of zero ideas on how to even start planning for the occasion, and her worthlessness on the matter was crushing for a woman of such pride. It threw her into a frenzy of foot-stomping, door-slamming, majordomo-at yelling, Geralt-stress fucking madness.

She hated it. Well, perhaps not the stress fucking part, but the overall asininity of her ineptitude on something that should have come so naturally to her – it was nearly unbearable.

She had finally admitted to herself two weeks ago, in a deeply drunk and morose state, that she could not do this on her own. And yet, without Ciri, and with Barnabas-Basil fearfully avoiding even the slightest hint of her shadow after all of her outbursts, she had nobody to turn to for help but Geralt.

Bloody Geralt – who would sagely respond to her crippling anxieties with some maddening version of, "It will all work itself out."

 _NO IT BLOODY WON'T!_

She felt as if she were losing her mind.

So when Ciri finally arrived at their estate that afternoon, weeks, _weeks_ after she had been summoned by her slowly unraveling mother, Yennefer wasted no time in ripping her daughter off of her stupid little horse and dragging her bewildered backside straight into the sitting room, where Yennefer had laid out mountainous piles of parchment in preparation for the avalanche of ideas that never came.

"Mother, slow down! Where are we g- Ow! Moth- Hi, Geralt. Hi, BB. Mother! What are-"

" _Sit_!" Yennefer commanded in her single-most fearsome voice, and Ciri dropped into a chair as if her bottom were suddenly made of very heavy stones. Yennefer was vaguely aware of Geralt muttering, "Uh oh," and shuffling himself out of the house with Barnabas-Basil. Ciri's whimper suggested she would have given up nothing short of her left arm to be with them right then, but Yennefer fixed her firmly in place with what she knew to be a petrifying glare.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, enunciating each word with punctuated furor.

Ciri recoiled, looking as if she couldn't decide whether to answer her mother fully or to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

"Where, Cirilla!" It was no longer a question. Now Yennefer just wanted Ciri to know how insane she felt.

"Mother, are you alright?" Ciri squeaked out in a tiny voice that betrayed both paralyzing fear as well as genuine concern. It disarmed Yennefer ever so slightly.

"No, and you were the only one who could have helped," Yennefer vented with a hint more of the despair that had been dogging her.

Ciri still looked unsure as to whether she was allowed to breathe ever again, but she bravely reached a tentative hand to her mother's. Yennefer did not brush off the gesture, which apparently emboldened Ciri to speak a little more freely.

"Are… Is this about the wedding?"

"No, it's about the state of unrest in the struggle for dominance amongst Skellige's mountain troll species. Yes, it's about the bloody wedding! Ciri, what took you so long?"

Ciri appeared to have suppressed a blush as well as a straight answer when she responded, "I'm here now. What can I help with?"

Yennefer sighed for what seemed like an eternity. She shut her eyes and brought her fingers to the bridge of her nose, trying but failing to dispel the frustrations of her failures. "I don't know."

"Alright, then… What have you decided on so far?"

"I don't know."

"…Will you at least still wear a black dress?"

"I don't know."


	2. Ciri Takes Charge

To say that Ciri was alarmed would be an understatement. And not solely because she had only just survived a harrowing experience in which her mother closely resembled a fire-breathing dragon.

It was also because her fire-breather of a mother was never one to be at a loss. Yennefer always had a plan, carefully and expertly devised to the last detail. For her to so thoroughly admit defeat – it was a shocking first for Ciri.

"So, you have noth-" Yennefer's glare made Ciri rephrase herself at once. "So, you are starting with a blank slate! How exciting!"

"Come off it. You've been gone for six months, and the only thing I've managed to decide on in that time is, oh, let's see… Absolutely nothing!" The self-loathing in Yennefer's voice almost made Ciri wish her mother would go back to yelling at her again. Almost.

"Mother, it's alright. Remember, Geralt started out with no plan for his proposal, also. And look how that turned out."

"Are you joking?"

"Well…"

"And even Geralt, even _bloody Geralt_ had a silver band to start with. And a jeweler to visit! Gods, how can I be worse at planning than goddammit fucking bloody _Geralt_?"

"Easy, there." Ciri did not want her mother to say anything in her agitated state that she would later regret, so she took over. "Let's start from scratch, shall we? The location: Here, of course?"

"There are two parts to a wedding, Ciri. Ceremony and party. The ceremony could not conceivably be held on a damn farm."

Ciri did not dare argue that a vineyard was not a farm. "Could the party be here, then?"

Sigh. "I suppose."

"Is there a problem with having it here?"

"Yes, because where would the ceremony be, and how would our guests get from there to here?"

"Let's see… Oh! You could hold the ceremony in the Beauclair Castle Gardens, and we could hire carriages to transport the guests here afterward! I'm sure the Duchess will grant you at least the small favor of using her gardens after all that you and Geralt have done for her."

"We're on tenuous terms after her cousin and I threw lightning bolts at one another during her birthday celebration last month."

"Mother…"

"I don't want to hear it from you, too. I was having a bad month – mistakes happen. Next idea."

"Right… Portals? Teleport the guests from the ceremony to the vineyard?"

"And who would be responsible for sustaining all of these portals?"

"Who is on your guest list?"

"If I had that planned out, I wouldn't have bemoaned having nothing decided, would I?"

Ciri held back an annoyed grunt that she was sure would've sounded suspiciously like Geralt's. "Alright, then let's start on the guest list while we're at it. Who do we want at the wedding?"

It turned out that Geralt had, to Ciri's great disgust, slept with entirely too many of Yennefer's female colleagues for her to want them witnessing their vows of devotion ("That's nearly half the Lodge!"). Yennefer had, in turn, not won the hearts of many of Geralt's mates, and she suspected they would not view the union with much support. Although Ciri doubted anybody would be able to behold what Geralt and Yennefer had now without recognizing true love for what it was, she understood Yennefer's consternation. The guest list really was more difficult than she'd originally thought it would be. And her parents really were every bit as messed up as she was. _Explains a lot_ , she noted to herself.

"What if you kept the ceremony small? We can invite a crowd to the party, but for the ceremony, only a handful of the people closest to you, who love you and with whom you don't have… sordid histories?"

"So, you, then?"

"It can't be-"

"My dearest friend is Triss Merigold. Sordid history, check. His dearest friend is Dandelion. Does not love me, check. The only others who truly loved us with purity were Vesemir and Tissaia De Vries, and I needn't remind you that they rest now. So, no, that will not do, either. Next idea."

Ciri's heart broke a little at the mention of Vesemir, and she heard the flutter in Yennefer's voice as she spoke her old mistress's name. She also felt an ancient shard of annoyance as she remembered Triss repeatedly throwing herself at Geralt when Ciri was a young girl training to be a Witcher, but Dandelion – she thought Dandelion just did not know Yennefer well enough. The stone-hearted Sorceress in the bard's ballads made for great storytelling, and he'd likely sung about her as such for so long that he'd started to believe his own version of her. But Ciri was sure that somewhere in Dandelion's bizarre little head, he would remember witnessing the real Yennefer – the one who'd sobbed gut-wrenchingly before she'd given up her own life trying to revive Geralt.

The world so often misunderstood her mother, failing to see the wonderful, loving, loyal person beneath the exterior. Ciri felt a pang of injustice on Yennefer's behalf and was suddenly driven, more than before, to do right by her.

"Let me take care of this for you, mother. I will sort it out." Ciri was resolute. She would make it all work, somehow, and Yennefer would love it.

Yennefer looked wholly unsold on passing the reins – even offended by the idea – and Ciri was fully aware that her mother's pathological need for control would not make it easy for her to take over. But Ciri had never been one to shy from impossible tasks.


	3. Geralt is Very Sensitive

Geralt had mastered a new skill since his retirement: Knowing when to stay out of the way.

Shortly after his proposal, he had been told unceremoniously – first by Ciri then by Yennefer – to keep entirely clear of the wedding planning lest he 'Geralt something up'. Although he'd been mildly confused by this turn of phrase considering how successful the proposal had been, he had obliged. He'd known how much it meant to Yennefer to be able to plot every detail of this momentous day to her standards of perfection, so Geralt had graciously stepped aside, allowing her the space she needed to do just that.

All he'd had to do, then, was enjoy the fact that Yennefer, the love of his life, was now his happily engaged fiancée, and that along with this new status came even more loving whispers and tender moments in their day – not to mention an impressive boost to her already insatiable libido. For a while, Geralt was on a cloud.

Then, a few months after Ciri had left, things started to take a turn. For Yennefer, becoming increasingly involved in the wedding planning had meant becoming increasingly irritable. Every day, Geralt watched as his recently exuberant fiancée grew listless and frustrated, her eventual outbursts of anger making victims of anyone unfortunate enough to get in her way (he owed BB a nice bottle of Est Est to make up for taking a vicious tongue lashing after simply asking if she would require a beverage with lunch).

Geralt had hoped to raise her spirits by taking her to Anarietta's lavish birthday celebration, knowing how much she enjoyed festivities that involved dressing up (and dressing him up). But to his chagrin, Fringilla hadn't been away in Novigrad as he'd been told, so his already irascible fiancée and his bitterly jealous ex had ended up exchanging curse words – both figuratively and magically – before indignant knights-errant threw themselves between the two Sorceresses, and Geralt and Yennefer were escorted off the grounds.

Shortly after, Yennefer had apparently gotten so desperate with the wedding plans that she'd even decided to turn to Geralt for help. He'd tried to support her as best he knew how – by reassuring her that everything would work itself out – but that had only seemed to aggravate her more.

He was flabbergasted.

He didn't understand why she couldn't see what was so plain for him to see: That after all of the shit that they had gone through in this life and in their previous life, they were going to be married – at long last living out the destiny that they had fought so hard to fulfill. And to him, that was all that mattered. If it were up to him, he would just have Ciri witness their vows and be done with it all, so that they could finally get to the _marriage_ bit of their marriage – maybe throw a party with their friends afterward to celebrate, but the most important part to him was always the two of them. In fact, that Yennefer was too focused on the wedding to see what he saw – it hurt him a little.

So when Ciri had finally decided to show up, Geralt slipped back into the shadows and let the women figure it out. Hopefully Ciri could calm Yennefer down and talk some sense into her. In the meantime, Geralt had a nice bottle of Est Est to give to his still-reeling majordomo.

"Lady Yennefer… I've never seen her like this, sir," BB said, standing in the estate's cellar where he had just received Geralt's heartfelt apology gift (with much less enthusiasm than Geralt had expected, he noted with mild disappointment). "She has been just… forgive me, sir, but she has been _frightening_ ," BB emphasized the last word with wide eyes.

"Yen's never frightened you before?" Geralt was curious.

"Well, she was a bit rude when she first arrived at the estate, but I felt as if I got to know her quickly. She is not a warm individual on the exterior, yet I could tell she is quite caring and truly a good person. I grew to like her immediately."

"You're rare, then. Most people don't see past her exterior for a long time – if ever."

"Is that really true, sir? She is widely adored by the other workers here, also. Perhaps we attribute her outwardly demeanor to cultural differences and are therefore not so bothered by it as Northerners may be?"

"That's an interesting point." But maybe it was also partly because Yennefer's exterior was actually starting to melt away. Since they had started building a life together in Toussaint, she had started revealing more of the true, hidden character of hers that Geralt at once wanted to boast about to the world and guard jealously as if a secret that only he was privy to. He hoped that her current mood would not taint her reputation with the workers; it heartened him to know that she was finally being appreciated the way she deserved. "I'm glad to hear that you all enjoy working for her."

"It has been a delight to serve both you and the Lady Sorceress, Master Witcher."

"Thanks, BB."

"The only complaint I have heard from the other workers…" BB stopped himself suddenly, as if realizing he had stepped into a highly inappropriate subject matter.

"Tell me. I kinda need to know this stuff if I'm supposed to be the master of the estate." Geralt wondered which of the many misguided criticisms of his fiancée he was about to hear; he was tired of them all.

"Sir, this is certainly not my place to say, and I sincerely apologize for speaking out of turn, but… the only complaint I have heard from the workers is how… they wish… you would, perhaps, that is to say, bear in mind their early schedules and be a tad more… muffled… in your late-night routines."

Geralt felt his face flush a deep shade of shame. Yennefer had assured him that she cast silencing spells on their chambers each night. He would have to talk to her and ask her to make sure it got done, every time – or else he would have to start… withholding sex? Er, no. Not that. Never that. _I'll just talk to her about it_ , he resolved uncertainly.

Apparently reacting to his visible discomfort, BB quickly added, "But how great it is to work for a master and lady who are so in love. Your passion for one another is an inspiration – truly!"

"I'm sorry, BB. I'll take care of it." That was all Geralt could say through his debilitating embarrassment, though he was not entirely sure he really could take care of the situation with Yennefer in her current state.


	4. Yennefer is Still Bridezilla

Yennefer was not accustomed to giving up control, and she was even more foreign to the thought of having to do so because she had flatly failed at something – made all the worse by the knowledge that that something was so damn important to both her and Geralt. She had wanted the wedding to be perfect for them, but the expectations she had set were apparently unattainable. So while hurling cuss words at herself for her own deplorable futility every step of the way, Yennefer attempted to allow Ciri to take the reins.

Evidently, she was pathetic at that, too. During the past week since her daughter had come home, she had tried but often failed to refrain from biting Ciri's head off whenever a disagreeable suggestion was made, and she could only admonish herself inwardly as she watched Ciri simply soldier onto the next new idea after every unsuppressed snide remark, affronted yet still somehow bravely unperturbed.

Yennefer could not express just how thankful she was for this daughter who understood implicitly that she did not actually mean to be so horrible, and that as soon as Yennefer was herself again, she would shower her daughter with well-deserved gratitude – and a productive trip to many shops of Ciri's choosing. But for now, her mood remained acrid and her tongue reflexively venomous.

"Mother, will you look at this guest list?" Ciri handed her a piece of parchment filled with the uneven runes of an overtaxed author working well into the night.

"Are you not able to recall the very basics of penmanship?" Yennefer muttered as she squinted her eyes to decipher her daughter's handwriting.

"Being that this is the eighteenth version of the guest list, I've decided content is by far the priority above presentation," Ciri intoned unaffectedly.

"One needn't mean the sacrifice of the other," Yennefer shot back.

Ciri wisely chose not to respond, instead remaining silent as her mother scrutinized the list for yet more grievances and oversights. It was a daunting task to balance having a gathering at the ceremony whose joy over the union of Yennefer and Geralt would be genuine and untainted, with a crowd at the party who would celebrate the union without resentment of not being invited to the ceremony. Yennefer lamented that thus far, Ciri had not found any success, and she was unhopeful that this new list would prove a breakthrough; indeed, she had already spotted a serious error.

"Why would you invite a surrogate for Anna Henrietta to the ceremony and yet leave Hjalmar An Craite to only the party?"

Ciri did not answer, and Yennefer noticed that her daughter seemed purposeful in averting her gaze. She pushed on.

"Setting aside that both Geralt and I have a much closer bond with Cerys An Craite, and Hjalmar would be here as her surrogate – not to mention that dear Crach An Craite made the ultimate sacrifice fighting the Hunt to defend our cause and our daughter – Hjalmar himself is a friend. There is much we owe him – dating from my time in his father's keep prior to Stygga – for both his bravery and his loyalty to you. This will not do."

Ciri appeared to swallow a rebuttal. "I will make the proper corrections in the next version," she said limply.

"Do so immediately. I see no reason to waste my time and ruin my vision attempting to deduce these scratches you call words when the content itself is clearly flawed."

Grumble. "Yes, mother."

Yennefer went back to sitting uselessly, trying but failing to keep the ire she felt toward herself contained within the safety of her own mind.


	5. Ciri is Caught In Between

Ciri attempted to rub the fatigue out of her eyes, but the motion only served to blur them further. She wished nothing more than to be fast asleep in her bed, particularly since Yennefer and Geralt had taken to being absolutely silent during their late-night activities lately – though Ciri questioned whether that was due to Yennefer actually obliging Geralt's request for more conscientious spell-casting, or if she had taken offense to his suggestion and had decided on a more drastic solution to their intimate noise problem instead. Judging by Yennefer's constantly cross mood and the bruised look Geralt had recently started sporting, Ciri guessed it was the latter.

The sooner this wedding planning business was over, the better it would be for all involved. Even though she knew that her mother did not mean any of the insults or curt words, it still took a lot of restraint for Ciri to withstand the constant barrage of negativity. The last thing she needed on top of all of that was to deal with a sexually frustrated Geralt, too. She had to push on.

Somehow, she found the energy to complete the nineteenth version of the guest list, adding Hjalmar An Craite (she suppressed some unease at the thought of the name) to the ceremony. She rewrote all of the other names in as neat of runes as her weary fingers could manage, and prayed to many gods that her mother would at last find some satisfaction with her efforts.

"Can you look at this one, mother?"

Yennefer paused her listless foot tapping, took her fingers off of the bridge of her nose, and accepted the parchment from Ciri's hand. Ciri may have dozed off for a time before she heard her mother clear her throat.

"You've actually produced something acceptable."

Ciri did not care one bit that the comment was both rude and ungrateful; she had finally accomplished a task, and she heard her luscious pillow call lovingly to her.

"And what are your designs for the invitations?"

Ciri groaned. "Mother, please. Can't we start on those tomorrow? Having a finalized guest list seems like a deed deserving of at least a small rest."

"Yeah, Yen." Ciri hadn't noticed Geralt enter the room. "Let her go to sleep. I can take over for her – if you want my help, that is."

Ciri startled. She understood instinctively what would happen next, and knew that she was powerless to prevent it. Yennefer's venom was by no means contained to Ciri, and Geralt was much too sensitive toward his fiancée's every action to withstand it as Ciri could. It was why even though she had craved his easy company every day, Ciri had tried to keep Geralt as sheltered and far away from them as possible during this process. But now, Yennefer and Geralt were headed toward a row – Yennefer was about to say something awful, and Geralt would be deeply wounded. And Ciri could do nothing but watch it unfold.

"Your help? With designing? Need I remind you how tragic your artistic skills are?"

There was the lash.

"Excuse me? I just want to help."

There was the wound.

"I don't need your help, Geralt. And I certainly don't need you to make this process anymore arduous than it already is."

Ciri wished it would end. She hated seeing the hurt on Geralt's face.

"What the hell, Yen? Why are you being like this?"

"Like _what_ , Geralt? What are you blathering on about?"

"Why are you acting like all I'm doing is bothering you when I just want to help?"

"Because this doesn't concern you!"

The words hung in the room like a malediction. Geralt did not respond. He only stood in place, his mouth agape as if gasping for air after a punch to the gut. Ciri's heart was breaking for him. She noticed the look of immediate regret in Yennefer's eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done.

"Right," Geralt breathed out almost inaudibly, though Ciri knew his words would cut right through to Yennefer. "It doesn't concern me. I don't know who you're planning this wedding for, Yen, but imagine for a moment, just one moment, how it feels to know that the answer is not 'Geralt' – that I'm not even a small part of it."

The air was so thick it was suffocating. Yennefer's face was mixed with far too many emotions for Ciri to identify, while Geralt pointedly refused to look anywhere near their general direction.

"Geralt-" Ciri tried, not knowing what to say or how to soothe his glaring pain.

"It's okay, Ciri," he reassured unconvincingly, still averting his eyes. "Listen, I'm gonna go take a contract. Blow off some steam. I'll be back when I'm back."

Geralt turned on his heel and sped out of the house, grabbing his double sheath of swords where he habitually kept them accessible. Ciri made to run out after him, to stop him from leaving with a festering wound, but she felt Yennefer grab her by the arm, keeping her in place.

Ciri was about to round on her mother, to yell and scream at her for being so cruel to the man they both loved so dearly, but she was halted by the shame she saw in her mother's lowered lashes.

"Leave him," Yennefer said with a voice that was simultaneously firm and trembling. "Let him go."

"Why?" Ciri may not have felt the need to berate her mother anymore, but she was still livid.

"Because I have an idea. Ciri, I know what I must do for this wedding."


	6. Yennefer is Back

"Are you sure, mother?" Ciri asked after Yennefer had explained her plans. "You're absolutely certain that this is what you want?"

"Without a doubt." Yennefer was resolute. She was still in disbelief and disgust over the unconscionable way she had hurt Geralt, but for the first time in months, she felt like herself again. She had a plan, and she knew she would execute every last detail to perfection. She had to – for him.

"And you leave tonight?" Ciri confirmed.

"I leave now. You get some rest, Ciri, and tomorrow-"

"I will. I shall begin first thing tomorrow."

Yennefer pulled her daughter into a quick but firm embrace. "Thank you, daughter," she whispered. "And…" She could not put into words all of the gratitude and regret that she felt.

"I know, mother." And Yennefer was sure that Ciri did know.

"Thank you," was all she could manage to say again.


	7. Geralt Feels Hurt, Loves Her Anyway

Geralt felt blank. Numb. His mind was reeling from the words that Yennefer had spat at him – words that had he not witnessed come out of her mouth himself, he would have never believed she could say to him. Not after how far they had come.

He rode into a neighboring vineyard which he knew was always facing some sort of infestation; its owner had lost a large portion of his crops to an accidental fire, and the ensuing loss of income meant an inability to upkeep his land. Geralt thought about offering his services for a meager fee, or maybe just for a place to sleep until he could gather his thoughts, but he decided against either option. He would simply camp out at night and attack the infestations unannounced during the day; he was only out here to clear his mind, and the owner of the vineyard did not owe him anything for that exercise.

Geralt found a large oak tree standing at the edge of a clearing. He climbed up halfway, found a wide, sturdy branch, and laid himself on it. He would sleep there tonight; he could not be sure the ground was safe enough for a distracted mind to rest on.

Through the sporadic holes in the large canopy of oak leaves, Geralt tried to peer at the stars. He recalled, with a heavy kick to the heart, that the last time he had sat down to enjoy the night sky was with Yennefer, shortly after they had gotten engaged. They had been jovially debating the existence of a certain constellation, and Yennefer had teased him affectionately for his inability to draw the shape of the constellation on the skin of her palm. He had loved everything about that evening, and it pained him that she had taken such a cherished memory and used it as a way to hurt him tonight.

He tried to block out his melancholy thoughts. There was no use feeling sorry for himself; it would resolve nothing, and he wanted more than anything to find a resolution with Yennefer. He wanted to return to how they were before all of the wedding planning had soured their interactions, before he became embittered that her impending union to him had caused her happiness to turn to ire.

Faintly, somehow, he thought he smelled her – the scent of lilac and gooseberries. He smiled ruefully; even when he was angry with her, he missed her so much that his mind played tricks on him.

He really was doomed to love her forever.


	8. Ciri Travels a Lot

Ciri was exhausted. She had spent the past two days teleporting from home to home, city to city, country to country, announcing the news of Yennefer and Geralt's upcoming nuptials to every person on the regrettably long guest list she had recently penned. All had received the news with knowing happiness ("Don't know what took them so long" was a near-universal refrain), though some had expressed annoyance at having to change their plans on such short notice to accommodate the matrimony.

Regardless, Ciri was completing her duty with full success; everyone she had visited would come – even if she had had to promise three separate groups of guests that she would personally teleport them to the estate so that they would not need to go through the hassle of traveling to Toussaint. She had walked away from each of those guests with eyes rolled firmly to the back of her head; she knew they only wanted to see what teleporting with The Lady of Time and Space felt like.

She looked at the final two groups of names not crossed off of the list yet. She was already at the castle gate leading to one of them, but she did not want to go through with it – to face him so soon after their split. It was so much easier to deal with Yennefer and Geralt's issues than her own. She had almost begun to lose her nerve when she heard a familiar voice, but a welcome one, call her name.

"Well, if it isn't our own Lady Cirilla!" Cerys An Craite was riding into Kaer Trolde with a group of muscle-bound warriors, though it appeared that their outing had involved no violence or bloodshed. Ciri noted with a breath of relief that Hjalmar was not among the riders following the Queen of Skellige.

"Your majesty," Ciri greeted in a graceful bow, to which Cerys responded with a deep, full-throated laugh.

"Majesty, me arse! C'mere, ya shifty little Witcheress!" She dismounted and wrapped her friend in a hearty embrace. Ciri returned it with a smile. "What brings you back here? Not here to mess with me brother's heart again, are you?"

Ciri noticed that Cerys said this with no malice. She found herself once again admiring the women of Skellige for their belief that heartbreak was a blameless, natural part of life, no different from a battle wound to tend to and move on from. She wished Hjalmar could have seen it the same way; she missed his friendship.

"I'm here to extend to you the most humble and sincere invitation of the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia, and the Sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg, to celebrate with them the nuptials which symbolize their everlasting love and commitment to one another, at their estate, the vineyard Corvo Bianco, in the southernmost country of our land, the nation of Toussaint," Ciri recited in one breath for the umpteenth time.

"They're gettin' married? That's great!" Ciri waited for it. "Don't know what took 'em so long!" There it was.

"Your majesty," ("Stop with that!") "I do understand the impossibility of your leave from your queendom, and I apologize for the inconveniently short notice, but you would do both my parents and me a great honor if you would grace us with the presence of a surrogate on the eve of Belleteyn."

"Belleteyn? But that's in four days!"

"I understand, and I once again apologize for the inconvenience. Should your surrogate require a speedier mode of transport than the traditional means, I am happy to offer my services on the day."

"Well, that won't be necessary. But you know who me surrogate is goin' to be, don't you?"

"I do, your majesty. And I thank you for your grace in granting our request."

Ciri bowed again and teleported away before Cerys could see the fierce blush Ciri was sure was devouring her face. She took a moment to shake out the feelings of embarrassment and guilt before refocusing herself on the final group of names on the list. And on the outrageously dressed bard now perched before her, too drunk on the sound of his own singing to notice that she was standing within punching distance of him.

"Dandelion!" she shouted much too loudly. The music stopped in reaction to her voice.

"Ciri!"

"You and I need to have a talk."


	9. Yennefer Watches Over Her Geralt

Yennefer watched from a tall cliff as, below her, Geralt pirouetted away from a large beast whose species she did not expend any effort on trying to identify; she was too busy looking for any sign that she needed to cast a shielding spell on the love of her life. Geralt of Rivia was a highly capable Witcher, but he tended to leave holes in his game when his mind was distracted. The fact that she was the cause of that distraction was not at all the only reason she felt the need to watch over him; she simply loved him far too much to ever bear seeng him hurt.

He handled this beast just fine, although there was once when Yennefer almost had to intervene – but the beast had lost its footing on a loose rock before it could make contact with Geralt. She watched as the Witcher plunged his sword into the beast's torso, rendering it unmoving but still visibly alive. He dealt the final blow – a mercy to a suffering animal - then mounted his horse and began to trot away from the scene and from her.

She let out a sigh of relief. It had been four days now that she had been tailing him, protection spells at the ready during the day, bewitching small edible animals to walk within hunting distance of him in the evenings. It was draining to maintain an invisibility illusion on herself for such prolonged periods, but it was simply what was required to keep Geralt safe and fed while he vented out his anger, and so she did her part without complaint. Geralt needed time to calm, and Ciri needed time to execute Yennefer's plan. She just wished Ciri would hurry; it was only two more days until Belleteyn.

Almost as if on cue, Yennefer felt a slight disturbance in the flow of magic and saw Ciri appear in a green glow mere steps before her. She motioned for her daughter to stay quiet until she was sure Geralt was far enough away that his Witcher senses couldn't hear them.

"Have you finished?" Yennefer asked her daughter finally, still keeping an eye on the slowly moving shape that was Geralt atop Roach.

"Yes. Everyone will be there." Ciri looked to be in good spirits, but a mother always made sure.

"And you? Are you well after that much exertion?"

"I'm just fine, mother. It's you who needs rest. No offense, but you look dreadful."

"Four days on the road without a bed or bath. I don't know how you Witchers do this."

"I cheat. I can teleport."

"Smart, daughter."

Yennefer noticed that Geralt was starting to disappear into the distance, so she nodded to Ciri, signaling the switch-off. Ciri nodded back in confirmation.

"Be careful, Ciri."

"Always. I'll see you at home."

"Yes, see you. Both of you."

"And mother?"

"Yes?"

"Two more sleeps," Ciri whispered with a knowing smile before taking off at speed toward Geralt. Yennefer was once again overcome with love and gratitude for her daughter.

When she saw that Ciri had caught up to her father, Yennefer let out a breath she thought she might have been holding for the past four days.

"Two more sleeps," she repeated to herself.

She opened a portal and went home to prepare for Belleteyn.


	10. Geralt vs Berries

Geralt had been lost in his own thoughts when he was ambushed by a barrage of berries not native to the South. For a moment, he wondered if he was losing his mind – but then he heard the comfortingly familiar sound of Ciri laughing.

"Get out of your own head, Witcher. You're too old to be doing this on reflexes alone."

"Yeah, well, wasn't expecting death by fruit today," Geralt complained as he picked a raspberry off of his lapel and tossed it into his mouth.

"Are you almost through with the contract?"

"No contract. Just patrolling the area."

Ciri snorted. "I won't even start on how many of your own rules of the trade you've just broken."

"Different circumstances," Geralt muttered sadly.

"If you won't get out of your head, will you at least tell me what's in it?" Something in Ciri's voice soothed him; she sounded cheerful, so maybe he should be, too.

"You were there. You saw what happened. I'm just trying to put it behind me."

"By patrolling the area like some silly knight-errant?"

"I am on their payroll."

"I will still try to respect you."

Geralt gave Ciri a playful shove.

"Are you here to convince me to come home? Did she send you?"

"I'm here to keep you company," Ciri answered only one of the questions. "Like old times."

"Like old times," Geralt repeated with his first real smile in what felt like weeks. "Okay, then, Witcheress. Let's see what you've got."


	11. Yennefer Prepares

"Tomorrow is the day," Yennefer stated to Barnabas-Basil and Marlene as if she were telling them for the first time, when in truth, she was likely repeating herself once an hour.

"We know what to do, dear lady," Marlene assured.

"We will not disappoint," agreed Barnabas-Basil.

"Thank you," Yennefer said sincerely – then she decided she needed to go a little further. "Barnabas-Basil?"

"Yes, Lady Yennefer?"

"I apologize for my behavior in the previous months. I have not been myself, and although I am aware that that is no excuse, please rest assured that I will go through great pains to not repeat such episodes in the future."

"You have no need to apologize, my lady."

"Are you saying I have not been frightening you on a daily basis?"

"N- no, I have been maybe a little apprehensive due to your… moods, but I knew it was not you. I'm just glad you're feeling yourself again. And that I am finally able to take part in preparing for this joyous day."

Barnabas-Basil's sentiment warmed Yennefer's heart, and she gave him a press on the hand to acknowledge it. She then turned to the work underway in the courtyard.

"One more sleep," she told herself.


	12. Geralt Comes Home

Spending time alone often helped Geralt bury unwelcome feelings, but spending time with Ciri genuinely lifted his spirits. By the second morning of their excursion together, Geralt felt ready to accept Ciri's sudden prodding and go home. He would return to Yennefer and tell her that he loved her and that he wanted to move past the other night. He hoped she would be ready to do the same. One way or another, he would make sure they were okay again.

As they emerged onto the path leading to Corvo Bianco, Geralt saw Yennefer striding toward them, looking stunning in a sheer, flowing white dress whose lacy black accents highlighted his favorite features of her body. His breath caught in his throat; he would never get over how beautiful she was.

He led Roach to a gentle stop and dismounted, anxious to make up with his fiancée. She was wearing an expression that he surprisingly could not place – he'd thought he knew everything about her by now – but he was undeterred; they had to be okay again. He needed them to be.

"Yen, listen. I-"

She interrupted him with something said in the Elder Speech, and everything went dark.


	13. Geralt is Taken to ---

Geralt woke in alarm, but he was calmed immediately by achingly familiar fingers stroking his cheek – fingers that he loved, fingers that belonged to the woman that he loved. He looked down and saw that the weight on his body was a heavy fur blanket protecting him from the snow falling around them, and he noticed that his head was in her lap. He closed his eyes and wished for this moment to last forever, although something about this scene struck an unsettling sense of déjà vu that he needed to quiet first.

"Where are we, Yen?"

"Skellige," she replied in a soothing whisper.

"Where's Ciri?"

"Waiting. In a tavern not far off." He allowed himself the feel of full relief before sinking into her caress completely.

"How come it's not cold?"

"A bit of sorcery, my love." His heart jolted, as it did every time she called him that. He smiled, vaguely noting the hum of his Witcher's medallion.

"I can get used to this," he said honestly.

She indulged him, and they stayed like that for a satisfyingly long time before Yennefer spoke.

"I'm sorry."

It was simple, but it was all he needed to hear.

"It's okay, Yen."

"It's not. I was horrible to you, and I'm sorry."

Geralt would normally have taken the time to tease her about deigning to apologize a whole twice, but her voice was so raw with sadness and guilt that all he wanted to do was hold her and make sure she never felt that way again. He knew he did not have the power to accomplish the latter, so he did what he could: He raised himself up to a sit and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her, his legs on either side of her small body. Even though it was not cold, he covered them both with the fur blanket. She settled into him with a long sigh before continuing.

"You were right that amidst all of the planning and all of the stress, I lost sight of what was most important: You."

"Us."

"And us. But I hurt you, and I know that it wasn't just for one night. I've been hurting you for weeks – maybe months – because I've been fretting so much over a single day that I made you feel as if I'd forgotten the reason for that day in the first place."

"Which is what, Yen?" He needed to hear her say it. "What's the reason?"

"That I will finally be married to you, and you to me, and we will at long last be living the destiny that we've fought so hard to fulfill."

Geralt closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair. Lilac and gooseberries. His heart swelled for her. She turned her head slightly and planted a tender kiss on his lips before whispering melting words of love. He thought he felt dampness on her lashes. He kissed her fluttering eyes, the left then the right, then kissed her nose before capturing her lips again with his own. He was so drunk on love for her that he did not know how long the kiss lasted for – he only knew he could have gone on for even longer.

When they parted for air and Geralt's senses ebbed back to him, he noticed something. "Is this Amos's ship?"

He felt Yennefer smile against him from where she had burrowed into his chest. "It is."

"Why are we here?"

"Ciri told me about your original plan. It only felt fitting to do this here."

"Do what?"

"Do you still wish to marry me, Geralt?"

He scoffed softly at the ridiculous question. "More than anything."

Yennefer gently untangled herself from his embrace, raised her arms, and recited an incantation. Red and green flowers of fire burst over their heads. Something reminded Geralt that it was Belleteyn.

The medallion on his chest tingled, and he watched as Ciri materialized before them, standing solemnly as if presiding over a sacred ritual. Yennefer rose to her feet and guided him to do the same. Geralt obeyed, confused but trusting. He absently noted that he was wearing a different shirt than before: A black-buttoned tunic that felt both comfortable and expensive. Yennefer took his hands and faced him fully. He saw that her eyes were glistening, but her face was a show of confidence and joy.

"Gwent," Yennefer declared hoarsely yet firmly, and Geralt felt his heart palpitate in recognition of the situation, "was what you said surprised you about me. What surprises me about you, what never ceases to amaze me about you, is your endless ability to love me, even at my ugliest. Even when I don't show it, even when I am too preoccupied to realize it, you fill my heart with happiness and joy, my life with warmth and light. For that, and for so much more, I love you with my entire being. As long as you will have me, Geralt, I vow to always return your love. I vow to always strive for your happiness and your joy, to fill your life with warmth and light as you do mine. I vow, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold from this day forth, you, Geralt of Rivia, my soul mate and my favorite person, as my most cherished and forever beloved husband."

Her vows resonated from his ears to his very core. He saw Ciri hold out a piece of parchment to him, presumably with a prewritten vow for him to simply read off to Yennefer. He refused it. He understood that Ciri was concerned he would lose his ability to speak again as he had done that night he had proposed, but he knew he would not; there was nothing more natural in the world to him in this moment than to finally say the words to make Yennefer his wife.

"Yen," he began with an assured tone that seemed to impress both Yennefer and Ciri, "we have been tested by every trial of fire, and through the strength of our will and our love, we've made it. I've seen us grow from timid strangers unsure of how to accept one another, to volatile lovers who couldn't help but hurt one another, to where we are now: Eternal partners who inspire the best in one another. We will always have our downs, but we will always pick each other up again, because we will always love each other. This is it, Yen. Us – we are _it_. So I vow, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold from this day forth, you, Yennefer of Vengerberg, the love of my life and the dearest companion I will ever have, as my most cherished and forever beloved wife."

In the ensuing silence, Geralt thought he heard Ciri make a small noise that sounded something like a pitchy " _What_?" It took Yennefer a moment to collect herself.

"That… was…" He watched as she grasped for the right words. "That was both eloquent and insightful, Geralt. And deeply moving."

"I can say sentences," Geralt boasted. Ciri and Yennefer both breathed a small chuckle. "I can 'Geralt things up'."

"That's not what that expressi-" Ciri was cut off by a look from her mother. She cleared her throat. "Have you been practicing those vows, Geralt?"

"Maybe."

Yennefer gave him a soft caress on his hand in response.

"But Yen, are you sure this is what you want?"

"What, to marry you?"

"No. Well, yeah, but no. To marry me like this. I thought you wanted a nice, proper ceremony."

"I thought so, too, but then I realized that what really mattered was for our ceremony to make us happy – to help us start our marriage off right."

"And does this? Make you happy?"

"You do, my love. You're all that counts." Just when Geralt had thought he couldn't love her more, she went and said something like that. He gave her a deep kiss to show his appreciation for her words and for her. She rewarded him with a rare smile that radiated the warmth of her soul.

"Ciri, what's next?" Geralt prompted. Ciri glanced at her mother with an astonished look that read something along the lines of, _When did he learn to take charge?_

"Right. Erm-"

"The rings, Ciri," Yennefer reminded gently.

"How are you two so in control suddenly?" Ciri joked. "Right, here is Yennefer's ring. Geralt, take it and repeat aft-"

Geralt snatched the ring out of Ciri's hand before she could finish. No more waiting. This was happening, and it was happening now. "With this ring," he slipped the simple silver band onto Yennefer's finger, "I thee wed."

Ciri produced the other ring, but the wry grin on her face suggested she had already anticipated the needlessness of her instructions. "Yennefer, take thi-"

Yennefer plucked the ring from Ciri and recited while fitting it onto Geralt's finger, "With this ring, I thee wed."

"The two of you really are made for each other," Ciri said in a tone that left open to interpretation whether she was complimenting, teasing, or both. "Now kiss, already."

They gladly obliged.


	14. Yennefer and Geralt Party

They stepped out of the green glow of Ciri's magic onto the cobblestone courtyard of their estate. Yennefer heard Barnabas-Basil Foulty, their faithful and esteemed majordomo, announce with a booming voice to the crowd awaiting in eager silence, "It is with the utmost honor that I present to you the Witcher, Master Geralt of Rivia, and the Sorceress, Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg, before us, for the first time, as newly and happily wedded husband and wife!"

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Triss, Margarita, Philippa, Keira, and a few of Yennefer's other colleagues shot bursts of multicolored fire into the evening sky. Dandelion and Priscilla broke into a duet of lutes and song that Yennefer was not sure anyone but they themselves could hear. Marlene, standing with a group of the women with whom she worked, shouted words of congratulations through unabashed tears. Eskel, Lambert, and Zoltan Chivay banged their tankards enthusiastically on the wooden longtables brought in for the occasion. A man whom Yennefer knew to be Regis swayed on his feet, his open and honest smile emanating through from a distance behind the crowd. Nenneke was openly bawling, her lips moving in a motion that resembled a chant of, "It's about time, it's about time."

All throughout, Yennefer and Geralt never let go of each other's hand. As they faced the world together, premiering in what they both considered to be the final stage of their saga, husband and wife held onto each other as if the other were life itself. It was not until the impatient crowd stormed the couple, sweeping them away in a fever of handshakes, embraces, kisses, and bone-shattering pats that Yennefer found her fingers detached from Geralt's. They searched for and found each other's eyes, and only after reassuring each other with a smile did they go on to greet their guests.

It was difficult to follow who was saying what words of felicitation; Yennefer felt herself being pushed, pulled, and patted from every direction, but somehow, Triss managed to extract her from the swarming well-wishers.

"Yenna," her friend said through teary eyes and a smile of heartfelt joy. Yennefer brought Triss into a fierce embrace, unspeakably glad for her friend's presence both on this day and in her life again.

"Thank you for coming, Triss."

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world, Yenna. Not for the world."

"Thank you."

It was all she was able to manage to convey to one of the people dearest to her heart before the crowd engulfed her again. She made a mental note to seek Triss out later, to ensure Eskel was still treating her friend well.

There was another torrent of frenzied blessings in which Yennefer found herself overwhelmed by appreciation. She took the time to greet and thank every guest for their attendance and their kind words. It was an exhausting exercise, and it felt as if days had passed before Marlene had Barnabas-Basil announce to the crowd to find a seat for the arrival of food. A procession of the estate's workers followed Marlene out of her kitchen with a veritable feast, and Yennefer made another mental note to seek Marlene out later; she knew the elderly woman had worked herself to the bone preparing for this day.

Yennefer felt herself swell with affection for their friends; she was instantly ashamed that she had ever doubted them.

* * *

Geralt was being clapped on the back so hard that he lost his breath a few times. Eskel and Lambert had cleared a small space to hold back the rushing crowd, making sure their brother got the ribbing that he deserved.

"Now you've done it, Wolf," Eskel punched Geralt in the bicep with a good-natured grin. "Really got yourself in it this time."

"Yeah, brother," agreed Lambert, throwing an arm over Geralt's shoulder. "This is for keeps now, you know? No turning back for you."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you guys were trying to scare me out of a commitment I've already made."

"Not at all, man. This is a commitment you should have made all along."

"Thought you weren't a fan of her, Lambert."

"Wasn't. Am now. Things change."

"Eskel?"

"Never seen you this happy, my brother."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, Wolf. Now we'll throw you back to the masses." Lambert pushed Geralt into a pair of spindly arms that wrapped him in a wet embrace.

Nenneke's sobbing had not ceased, and her words were incomprehensible, but Geralt felt a lump in his own throat for all of the thanks he could never express to her. He simply embraced her back and hoped she would understand what an important role she had played in both his life and the life of his family.

He felt himself pried away from the old Priestess by what felt like a hundred hands waiting to shake his, but he politely extricated himself when he saw a face that he had longed to see for years.

"Regis." He sped toward the lone figure standing away from the crowd. "It's good to see you, my friend."

"And you, Geralt," the vampire returned, a knowing smile playing on his face. "Particularly under these blessed circumstances."

"Is it safe for you here?"

"I am being careful, and this is an occasion I would not forgive myself for missing."

"You need to meet Yen. The two of you would get along great."

"I have always gotten that sense, and I look forward to getting to know the lady. But this is not the time, I'm afraid; now that I have had the honor of expressing my most ardent regards for your profound and deserved joy, I fear I need to leave."

"I understand."

"Take care, dear Witcher."

"Can I know where you're staying now?"

"If one can traverse time and space," Regis replied mysteriously, though Geralt knew exactly what he meant and why he did not want to risk an answer being overheard.

Geralt watched as the place where Regis had been standing dissolved into a dark mist before clearing again. He silently thanked the vampire – both for his presence and for his wisdom to know that his absence meant safety. He made a silent promise to take Yennefer to meet Regis as soon as he could track him down; he truly believed the two of them would become fast friends.

"Was that Regis?" Dandelion slammed into Geralt from behind. "Damn, was that Regis?"

"Didn't get to talk to him before Yen and I got here?"

"No! Priscilla and I were too busy preparing for the duet. We wrote it just for this occasion, but Geralt! I don't think anybody heard it! The crowd was too loud!"

"I'm sure it'll get heard at some point tonight. I'm sure you'll make it heard at some point tonight."

Geralt had a distinct feeling that Dandelion was about to offer his services right then and there when, to his great relief, his majordomo intervened by announcing the arrival of the feast.

"Let's grab some food first, Dandelion. Stuff yourself."

"Ha! More like, 'Be gone, and go plough yourself', no? Funny how those are the words that started this whole thing, huh?"

"Shut up, Dandelion."

"Hey, congratulations, Geralt. Helluva lady."

"Thanks."

"Just make sure she lets you keep at least one of your testicles."

"Shut up, Dandelion."


	15. Ciri Spills Her Heart

Ciri sat down hard, slightly out of breath from having spent the better part of the past hour on the dance floor, alternating between wriggling to the music with Triss and Keira, cheering on Zoltan as he showed the world that dwarves knew how to move like the best of them, and yanking Geralt's limbs around as he stubbornly refused to so much as shift his weight to the rhythm of Dandelion and his troupe's most enthused beats.

In fact, the only dancing Geralt had partaken in had been at the very start of the show that the troubadour and his troubadouress had put on, when they demanded the attention of the partygoers in order to serenade the newlyweds with a specially composed ballad. Geralt had surprised Yennefer by leading her to the clearing at the head of the tables, holding her tightly as they swayed sweetly on the spot, lost far more in one another than in the music. Ciri had watched as the crowd swooned over her parents' love without an ounce of surprise; she had known from the get-go that nobody could witness what these two had without recognizing true love for what it was, no matter what sordid histories or misplaced doubts they may have once held. She was glad that her parents finally got to see it, too.

It took a few minutes for Ciri to realize that she had subconsciously chosen to sit at an empty table, far away from the heat of the action. She took some time to drink in the night air, thankful for the brief peace and solitude to recharge her energies; the past few weeks had been absolutely draining – though for a worthy cause.

Ciri looked on as her parents sat with a small crowd, each engrossed in conversations with different friends – though they always found a way to maintain contact with one another's bodies. Yennefer was talking animatedly with Triss, Keira, and a blushing Eskel (or at least he was wearing an expression that Ciri recognized from years with Geralt as being a Witcher's blush). Something her mother said made Triss laugh melodically and Keira clap Eskel on the back as he shrank into himself with an endearingly shy smile. There was a look of approval on Yennefer's face as she observed Eskel's reaction, though Ciri noted with mild curiosity that Keira did not seem to mind Lambert walking away from the crowd with a young female worker, guiding her by the waist.

Meanwhile, Geralt was engaged in a heated game of Gwent with Zoltan, the latter proclaiming that he would 'win back all three of those blasted cards tonight'. The game was being closely attended by a few wedding guests as well as some of the estate's workers - most notably BB, who clucked his tongue knowingly almost every time Zoltan made a move. One of the members of the audience, however, seemed less interested in the match than in Ciri; more than once, Ciri had caught Hjalmar casting furtive glances at her. She noticed that his eyes held resentment and longing, so she chose not to acknowledge his gaze. This was meant to be a happy occasion, and guilt burned inside her at the mere thought of him.

She absently picked at a loose splinter on the longtable, thinking about nothing in particular, glad for the rare luxury of having nothing to fret about – repressed matters of the heart notwithstanding. She almost did not see her mother approaching, stepping soundlessly to Ciri's side.

"Fancy some company?" There was an airy quality to Yennefer's voice that revealed her elation at the night's success. Ciri moved over, wordlessly inviting Yennefer to sit. They spent a short moment simply observing the merriment of their guests.

"Are you having a nice time, mother?"

"More than I ever thought possible."

"I'm glad."

Yennefer put a hand over Ciri's. "And I'm glad for you. Thank you, daughter. For everything."

"I would say 'any time', but…"

"It shan't be made a habit of, I promise. And I also promise-"

"That you'll make it up to me by allowing me to buy myself copious amounts of gifts, courtesy of your account with Molnar Giancardi's networks."

Yennefer chuckled. "You certainly are owed your dues. Just spare me enough coin that I do not have to live off of your father's wines. The man does not understand the concept of tannins."

"Perhaps not, but he certainly knew how to write a vow. Were you as shocked as I was?"

"Words could not describe, Ciri."

Ciri put her head on her mother's shoulder but braced herself. She knew that Yennefer could sense her mind was distracted. She knew what was coming.

"Might I ask you something personal?"

"I sense I have no choice but to let you."

"Why is Hjalmar An Craite staring at you like you've only recently broken his heart?"

Ciri missed only a beat before responding, "Because I have."

"With the Koviri Sorceress?"

"She's not Koviri; I merely met her in Kovir. And she's not a Sorceress."

"I stand corrected on both counts, but the question remains."

"Yes, with her. I…" Ciri tasted something unpleasant in her mouth. Yennefer had hit upon another source of bitterness. It was difficult for Ciri to explain herself.

Yennefer changed tracks. "Where is she tonight? I thought I was explicit that you were allowed a guest." Her mother always knew how to get the answer out of her.

"I don't know where she is."

"Why is that?"

"We've split up, as well."

"You've split up with both Hjalmar and this girl?"

She might as well come out with it. There was no keeping it from Yennefer, and besides, her mother was always supportive and knew how to help her sort out her mind. Much like the role Ciri had played for Yennefer in the past while. It really was interesting, the way they just understood each other.

"She…" Ciri began, feeling the full force of her guilt welling up, "she split up with me. After she found out that I was still with Hjalmar when I started being with her, too."

Ciri felt her face burn with shame, but Yennefer did not seem the least bit judgmental. If anything, she let out a little breath that sounded suspiciously like she was relating to her daughter's position. Ciri continued; she was far from having told the whole story yet.

"The thing is, I hadn't meant to deceive her. Neither had I meant to hurt Hjalmar. But when I met her, I was… confused. She and I got on splendidly and were rather attracted to one another, but I could never be sure if I liked her for who she was or if I liked her because… because she looked almost the spitting image of someone I used to know. Someone I used to love."

The name Mistle did not escape Yennefer's lips, but Ciri knew it was there. She had never hidden her history with the Rats and with her first lover. Her mother must have known how much that relationship had meant to her, particularly in her most desperate time of need. She was positive that her agony over losing Mistle in such a tragic manner had been so intense that even if Yennefer had not been trying to read her mind, Ciri had projected her thoughts.

"Have you spoken with either of them since you split up?"

"No."

"Do you want to?"

Ciri thought about it. "Yes. Desperately. With both of them."

"What about?"

"To apologize. I never meant to break any hearts. I just don't know where I am right now with my own heart."

"That simply means it has not been captured yet."

"…I suppose. Mother?"

"How will you know if your heart has been captured?"

"Yes."

"You cannot possibly miss it, Ciri."

* * *

 **A/N:** Quick shout-out to DaisyOfGalaxy for helping me sort through what I wanted to do with Ciri's criminally underdeveloped love life - even though I still ended up not doing much with it (sorry, Ciri!) because nothing felt right. She's definitely one of the more interesting characters to explore, so I'm open to ideas if anyone has some!


	16. Yennefer Still Likes Dandelion

Yennefer and Geralt were starting to bid the last of their guests farewell. She did not know the hour, but she gauged from the lightening sky that the bliss of celebrating their union with their friends had taken them much closer to dawn than dusk. After seeing off the Aretuza staff and their respective partners into several ovals of light, Geralt kissed the crown of her head softly as Yennefer let out a yawn; she hadn't realized how exhausted she was until now. But the night was not over yet.

"Yennefer?" There was only one person who said her name so musically.

"Dandelion, thank you for coming. Will your group require a portal back to Novigrad?"

Dandelion turned his gaze to the pile of drunken bodies that revealed Zoltan's boots at the very bottom. "I think so."

Yennefer started to lift her arms in preparation for a portal when Dandelion interrupted. "Before that, might I have a quick word?" Geralt looked between his best friend and his new wife apprehensively, but Yennefer nodded her consent. "Don't worry, Geralt. I promise I'll have her back in one piece."

"I'm more worried for you, Dandelion," Geralt muttered as he walked away, allowing them privacy – for what, Yennefer was uncertain.

"What can I help you with, Dandelion? Only, please tell me in prose. I have been deprived of too much sleep to process verse, much as I appreciate yours." She stifled a yawn that had emerged as if trying to help her prove her point.

Dandelion regarded her with a smile. "You know you're a lot kinder now?"

Yennefer blinked at him. She was not sure where that had come from or what he expected in reply.

"Before, you would've just told me, curtly, 'Prose, Dandelion, prose' – and not be bothered with cushioning it with an explanation of your weary state or reassuring me that you like my poetry."

"I suppose a 'thank you' is in order?" She still did not know where he was going with this. She would've been tempted to read his thoughts if she weren't so tired – and if she hadn't once seen all of the regrettably graphic images that filled Dandelion's head.

"Look, Ciri told me that you were wary about having me witness your vows because you didn't think I liked you." She did not blush, but she certainly would like a word with Ciri about discussing her private feelings with the world. "Thing is, I've actually always liked you as a person."

"Truly?" she questioned with genuine skepticism.

"Well, I've always respected you. Plus, I owe you I don't know how many lifetimes of debt for saving me from Reince."

"I did that because _I_ liked _you_ , Dandelion. As I told you that very night."

"And I appreciated your candor. You've always been a good person, even if your actions were sometimes questionable." She gave him a look. "As were mine! As were mine. I just didn't like how you treated Geralt."

She felt an old ache of guilt. "That, I can understand."

"You were mean to him, you cheated on him, you treated him like a dog, you bossed-"

"The point, please. This is still my wedding night, and I would like for it not to end with a litany of character attacks."

"Right, sorry. Hey, at least I didn't burst into verse!"

"Dandelion…"

"Yeah, okay. So, my point is, I've always respected you as a person, but I hated how you treated my friend. That's why you probably got the sense that I didn't like you. But that's not actually true, and honestly, it's completely untrue now. I've never seen Geralt so happy, Yennefer. And that's all you."

Yennefer felt her heart flush with warmth. "Thank you for saying that. Moreover, thank you for being a friend to him when I was unkind to him and when life was unkind to him. You helped him through much of what eventually brought him to me here today. I don't know how many 'lifetimes of debt', as you say, I owe you for that."

"I suppose we're even?" He smiled goofily.

"I suppose, Dandelion." She smiled back gladly.


	17. Geralt Loves His Destiny

If someone had told him that he would not be consummating his marriage by fervidly making love to his new wife the very same night they had exchanged their vows, Geralt would have laughed in their face; sex with Yennefer was his single-most favorite activity in life, and of all of the times he might need to miss it, there was no possible way his wedding night would be one – or so he'd thought.

But as the sun rose over Yennefer's finally sleeping form, looking more blissful and at peace than he had ever seen her, he found that he wanted nothing more than to hold her small, beautiful body while she rested.

He brushed his hand through her hair, and the action rewarded him with a wisp of her fragrance. He loved her so much it was indescribable – literally. There were no words to capture what it meant to him that Yennefer, his Yen – his dream, his best friend, and his favorite person in the world – was finally his wife.

Their path here had taken them through many unexpected turns and down many dark valleys, but they had finally arrived. This was their destiny. And they had, at long last, fulfilled it.

He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take over him. He knew that the dreams which awaited him would be the sweetest he'd ever had – and that they would be nothing compared to his reality.


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 **Author's Note:** This epilogue references the (debated) origin of the custom of honeymooning. Some say that it comes from the Nordic word "hjunottsmanathr," which roughly denotes the custom that Yennefer describes below. I've taken some poetic licensing to Witcher-ize it. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

"' _Honeymoon_ '?" She regarded with him kind but skeptical eyes from behind her book, half-lying on her couch on the grassy knoll beside their home. He was confused. He'd thought she would be excited by the idea. He shifted his feet a little.

"Yeah! We find a place we want to escape to for a little while, go there, and hump the whole time."

"So eloquent."

"It's why you married me."

She put down her book, then stood to give him a soft smack and an even softer kiss. "I suppose what you're describing is the new custom of the land, but are you aware of the origin of the word?"

He hadn't thought about words having origins. "No. Why?"

"The term 'honeymoon' comes from the ancient – and thankfully obsolete – Skelligan tradition in which a man kidnaps a woman, hides her away in a cave, feeds her honeymead to keep her barely conscious, waits as many moons as needed until her family stops looking for her, then brings her home to marry her against her will."

"Holy… Are you sure?"

"Do you doubt my knowledge?"

"Nope." He knew better than to have any answer besides that one.

"And is that what you would like to do to me?"

"You… you do like honeymead…" His feeble response earned him a withering look, which thankfully warmed to something a little more tender as he brushed a thumb against her cheek.

"Geralt, you know I will go anywhere with you – follow you anywhere. Name the place, and I'm there."

"Yeah?" He felt himself melting in the way only she could make him do.

"So if you really want to take a short vacation," he noted that she avoided using the term, "I will be happy to accompany you."

"But?"

"No 'but'."

He pulled her in for an embrace and sighed, knowing he would never tire of the sensation of having her in his arms. "I don't know, Yen. I only asked because I thought that's what you'd want."

She rewarded him with a kiss on the nape of his neck. He shivered. "Are you saying that there isn't any place you're aiming to travel to in particular?"

"To be honest, no. I'm perfectly happy right here. More than perfectly happy."

"As am I, my love." His heart flushed with joy.

They took a moment to absorb their surroundings: The golden rays, the chirping birds, their blossoming vineyard. Their home.

"This is paradise," she whispered. "Our paradise."

He kissed her on the crown of her head. "Yeah," he agreed wholeheartedly.

"Would you want to just stay here?"

"Instead of going away?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely." He kissed her hair once more. She responded by tightening her hold on him.

"Then we stay."

"Sure, Yen."

She lifted her face to his, and their lips touched. This really was paradise.

"We can even 'hump the whole time'."

He smiled against her. "But there's no end to our stay here."

"I stand by my words."

He kissed her again.

Paradise.


End file.
